


"The Ackerman Tour Experience"

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asshole!levi, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Journalist!eren, Levi may act a bit OOC, Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, Rating May Change, Sassy Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Slow Build, Superstar!Levi, please read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Journalist Eren Jaeger is given the chance of a lifetime when he is offered a job at one of the most prestigious magazine companies in the world. His first assignment - Following around the young, cocky, and talented new celebrity rock star, Levi Ackerman, on his very first two-month tour and documenting every single thing that he can find out about the heartthrob, even though he completely trashed the musician in one of his previous works. </p><p>And to add on to things: If there's one thing that Levi Ackerman hates more than anything, it's snot-nosed brats that don't know how to stay out of other people's business, no matter how cute said brat is.</p><p>(AU: Levi's a rock star with an asshole personality. Eren's a cheery journalist that doesn't know when to shut up. They say opposites attract, though...Right?)</p><p>-Previously titled: Ultraviolent Love-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Rock Star

"Rise and shine, my little sociopath."

 

A stream of bright light shone through my closed eyelids as I vaguely register the voice that spoke to me. I have a killer hangover from last night and instantly make a promise to myself to never drink an ounce of liquor ever again in my life.

 

"You know what, eyebrows? Ever since I idiotically gave you that key to my apartment, I've been regretting it ever since." I mumble groggily, burying my face deep into my pillow. At this point, I'd rather smuggle myself to death than move an inch out of this glorious bed.

 

"You always know exactly what to say to make a guy feel special, dear.” Erwin, my assistant/best friend retorts with a small laugh. I barely notice the blonde-haired beaut crouch onto his knees beside my bed, only to lift up the dangling sheets and peer underneath the piece of furniture. I groggily scoot my body over, peering my head from atop the bed to spy on just exactly what the hell he’s doing. I still have no clue as he hops back up, sauntering his way over to my walk-in closet to search in there as well.

 

"Looking for something? I would guess your dignity judging by those tight-ass pants you're wearing, but I could be wrong."

 

Erwin wore a plain white button down shirt, coupled with a pair of navy blue skinny jeans that literally look painted onto his legs, finished by black dress shoes. Odd combination, but he somehow makes it work. Although, if I didn’t know any better, I’d probably mistake him for a high-class prostitute rather than my employee.

 

"You basically just admitted you were eyeing my ass, but I'll let that slide. I was just checking to make sure I wouldn't have to kick anybody out this time. You know how you LOVE your drunken one-night stands, Levi." Says Erwin cheekily, resulting in a snort from me.

 

"Three times. Only three times have you had to kick someone out." I say with an eye roll, my weak attempt to sit up and prop myself against the headboard looking slightly pathetic. Just as I succeed,  Erwin nonchalantly throws a piece of paper at my face.

 

"Here's today's itinerary. Considering how much of a busy day you have today, I'll be looking forward to hearing you bitch about the massive headache you'll be sporting."

 

"I forgot to say something earlier, and I've been meaning to say this ever since you opened those bright – ass blinds: Fuck you and your damn caterpillar-brows. Now that that's taken care of, you know good and damn well that I can't read this shit due to the hammer pounding in my brain as of right now."

 

"Oh, I have to read for you now, too? Why don't I just start doing your interviews, as well? Better yet, why don't I just throw on a black wig, add some eyeliner, and sing as you on stage? Why don't I also just-"

 

"Stop being a smartass, and read the fucking schedule, you douche." I say agitatedly, even though I know he could see the light smirk playing on my lips. The banter and name-calling is and always has been a normal occurrence between Erwin and me. Some may call it dysfunctional, but I just call it the basis of our friendship.

 

James lets out a hearty laugh that only he could muster. It’s the same laugh I've been hearing ever since sixth grade, except maybe with a little more bass to it. The guy can be a pain in the ass at times, but he's pretty much the only constant thing I have left in my life, besides my little sister. In the entertainment business, you never truly know who your friend is, but Erwin has always been ride or die with me. He means a shitload to me, although I'd of course never admit that to the idiot; I just assume he already knows.

 

"Well, first of all, my royal highness," says Erwin as he habitually starts to pick up random articles of clothing strewn along my apartment floor. "You have a meeting with your publicist in about an hour. I told you this yesterday just so you wouldn't be late, and yet, here we are again on the verge of tardiness. You know how Hanji is about punctuality, Levi." Erwin reprimands towards me as he piles a mountain of clothes off of my floor into a laundry basket.

 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why does Hanji want to see me anyway?" I say with a wave of my hand, only to throw the silk sheets off of my body and position myself on the edge of my bed.

 

"Apparently, your 'baby mother' has come forward to make you take care of your 'son'." Erwin deadpans. My eyes roll into the back of my head as an exasperated groan leaves my lips. The lies random people came up with just to get a few seconds of fame will forever and always baffle me.

 

"I never knew you were even straight. Should I enlighten Petra on this new development?" asks Erwin, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

 

"If it'll keep that crazy bitch away from me, then I might just let you do that." I blurt out, physically shuddering at the thought of my ex – girlfriend, Petra. We had dated for about 11 months during our senior year of high school, and after having the revelation that I’d much rather be _giving_ head than receiving, I immediately came out rather than bullshit my life away by being unhappy with myself. Let's just say…Petra didn't take the news too well. She's been stalking me ever since, and let us not mention that it's been seven years since we’ve broken up.

 

"Don't sweat yourself; Mike’s got you covered. Threaten the asshole with a lawsuit, and they'll be apologizing to the public in no time."

 

"Ah, Mike the super-agent. Gotta love the sniffing weirdo. Besides the news of my heterosexual-ness, anything else I should be worrying about today, eyebrows?"

 

"Then, at twelve, you have a commercial filming with ProActive, so I highly suggest that you shave off that hideous nine o' clock shadow." Erwin grimaced with a glance at me, tidying up some of the mess of papers on my desk. I rubbed at my slight stubble, remembering back to the times when I thought that it made me look a tad bit older; guess not.

 

At 25, I barely look a day past 16, something I take as both a blessing and a curse. I’m remarkably short in stature, but I make up for it in muscle. The record label is constantly on my ass about keeping up an attractive physical appearance, taking into account that I’m not exactly the friendliest artist in the business, so I try to stay in shape.

 

“Oh, and _Vogue_ just gave your album a 5-star review.” Erwin states simply.

 

“Wait, _what?”_ I perk up, my migraine momentarily forgotten. Erwin fishes his phone out of his pocket, scrolling and scrolling until he finds what he’s looking for.

 

 _“Levi Ackerman’s debut album, “Ultraviolent Love”, has dominated the Top 100 charts ever since its release last Friday. With its daunting love ballads that tug at one’s heartstrings mixed with a few up-tempo hits that could get anyone moving on the dance floor, heated debate has ensued over whether to classify Ackerman’s music as either Pop or R & B. However, one things is certain: Ackerman has miraculously created a league of his own, often being compared to the likes of Michael Jackson and John Lennon, even though his career has barely just begun. His sweet yet sultry voice has captivated the hearts of millions, earning him a die-hard group of supporters. “Ultraviolent Love” will go down in the books as one of this year’s hottest albums, a fact that no one will be able to dispute.” _Erwin read aloud, my jaw hanging in shock.

 

“Michael Jackson? John Lennon? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck.”_ I fall back onto my sheets, running a hand through my messy hair as I run the review over in my mind, disbelieve quite evident on my face. Erwin graced me with a smile, one that I couldn’t help but return.

 

"You're climbing up the celebrity status ladder pretty fast. So, get used to the compliments, shorty." says Erwin, throwing a bottle of Advil in my direction, which I caught easily. Normally, I would chew Erwin out for the height comment, but my mind is still wheeling around the news that people are considering me a celebrity. It’s surreal.  

 

“Oh, and don’t forget the meeting with the _Time Magazine_ representative at 3.” Erwin throws in.

 

“Remind me again just why exactly I agreed to have some snot-nosed brat follow me around for the entire duration of my very first tour?” I ask. The thought of some weirdo following me around while documenting my every move makes me want to vomit. I get enough of the paparazzi now, those sleaze-balls always finding a way to track me down and invade my precious personal space. The last thing I want is for my very first tour to be ruined because some kid decides to be nosy, I get pissed off, and someone gets a punch in the face. Then, before I even know it, a news article titled, “Rising Star Receives 5 Years in Prison for Attempted Murder” is floating around on the newsstands.

 

That wouldn’t be good for my reputation.

 

“Levi. _Time Magazine_ is one of the most prestigious magazine’s you could ever be featured in. With this publicity, the fans will get to know the Levi that I know: the short, angry, sarcastic man who wouldn’t hesitate to knock a fucker out if you get pissed off.”

 

I narrow my eyes at the man standing in front of me, giving him an affectionate flick of my middle finger. “Gee, thanks for that dazzling overview, you ass.”

 

"Of course, babe. Now, get dressed. Unless, of course, you planned on going through your day in your underwear. I don't know how Hanji would feel about that type of publicity…”


	2. Meet the Journalist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the name to The Ackerman Tour Experience, if you guys didn't notice, haha. 
> 
> HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THE CHAPTER! :)

My palms are sweating to the point that every time I wipe them on my neatly–pressed khaki pants, they leave a wet stain. For the millionth time this morning, I run a hand through my messy hair, neither a comb nor brush possessing the superpowers needed in order to tame my wild hair while I was getting ready.

 

_Eren, calm down. You can do this. It's just a silly job interview! Oh, who am I kidding, it's the biggest interview of my life. If I get this job, I'll be working for Time Magazine. Yeah, one of the top magazine companies in the fucking world. Oh God, I’m gonna throw up._

 

“Eren Jeager? Mr. Pixis is ready to speak with you now." says the attractive, blonde-haired receptionist of _Time Magazine_ Headquarters. She wears a bright smile that compliments her staggeringly blue eyes and gestures one of her dainty hands towards the direction of Mr. Pixis’ office, the head editor of _Time Magazine._

 

_Oh God, now I'm really going to throw up._

 

I send a shaky smile her way before following the petite lady down a narrow hallway. We pass by numerous doors, all containing the lovely sounds of shuffling papers.

 

_Maybe if I get the job I'd have one of these offices. Maybe I'd even have my name on the door, too. Maybe I'd-"_

 

"Just knock when you're ready to go in. Good luck!" the lady interrupts my thoughts with an everlasting smile still on her face. She quickly struts off back in the direction we came, the sound of her black pumps following along with her. I gulp down a wad of saliva wedged in my throat as I find myself standing in front of a large door, a single, yet powerful name written on it in bold, black words: **D. Pixis**. I gently knock, immediately greeted with a loud "Come in!"

 

I turn the knob and push the door open, poking my head in. I’m greeted with the sight of a tanned and older gentleman, heavy wrinkles circling around his eyes. He has a headset pressed in his ear and a frown pointed at nothing in particular, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s on the phone.

 

"No, no, no, NO. You tell that asshole that he either talks to me about this, or he can shove a fist up his ass. I am Dot Pixis! I'm _amazing_ , and I get final say in this." Mr. Pixis says loud and brashly, gesturing me into the room without even having taken a glance at me. I quickly step into the large, tidy office, closing the door behind me. I slowly work my way over to the front of his desk, taking a seat in one of the white, expensive looking chairs he has set here.

 

"NO, NO, HELL NO. You know what, Jimmy? Tell him to just forget it!" Mr. Pixis says with finality in his voice, pressing a button on his headset to end the call. His eyes are flaming with anger, and as soon as he regains some of his senses, he flashes his eyes towards me.

 

"Who the hell are you?" asks Pixis, sounding more confused than angry. My words come out in a nervous stutter.

 

"I-I'm Eren Jeager, Sir. I'm here for the job interview you called me back about?"

 

"Ah, the amateur that my assistant recommended. Listen here, Jeagermeister. This is a million-dollar magazine company, understand? If I hire you, and you do something wrong, which you probably will, guess who that falls back on? ME, the a _mazing_ Dot Pixis. And when that happens, depending on the situation, I will not hesitate to cut you off like an unnecessary limb, clear?"

 

I nod frantically, my nerves skyrocketing through the roof.

 

"Now that we got that straight, I read the review you wrote for the local newspaper on that album…What was it…Oh! “Ultraviolent Love.” It was rude, it was brash, it was uber over-opinionated…And I loved it. You got guts kids, trashing an album that has every single teenage girl in America creaming themselves, and those types of risk takers are exactly the types of people I need on this crew."

 

"In my defense, sir, I never meant to downright trash the album…I was just saying that Mr. Ackerman’s music isn’t as spectacular as everyone is hyping it up to be. He's just another Hollywood pretty boy that can hit a few notes and offer the right amount of sex appeal.”

 

"Exactly. You went against the crowd, and you earned some major points for that. Hell, _I_ liked the damn album, but after reading your article, even I had doubts on how long this kid is going to last. You're persuasive, and I love that. How old are you, Jeagerbomb?"

 

"I'm twenty-one, sir."

 

“Good. You're young. You’re exuberant. You may even be brilliant, perhaps. And, just for the record, know that I don't tell that to just anyone, ok? That's why I'm hiring you."

 

_I'm sorry, did I hear that right?_

 

"I'm…hired? As in…I have the job?"

 

“Jaeger, did I stutter? Yes, you're hired, and you start _now_. You have a meeting with the Ackerman kid and his management at three."

 

"Oh my goodness, thank you so so so much, Mr. Pixis. This means the world- wait, did you just say Ackerman? As in…Levi Ackerman? A meeting about what?”

 

"Look, kid. I know you OBVIOUSLY aren’t a big fan, but Ackerman is going on tour for a couple months and _Time Magazine_ is going to have you, one of our photographers, and one of our video recorders follow him around throughout the entire thing. You guys won’t be sleeping on the same tour bus as Levi, but you three will be sharing a bus so graciously provided by his management. All your food and other necessities will paid through our company and you and the others will receive a weekly ‘allowance’, if you’d like to call it that.

 

How does Levi Ackerman start his day? Is Levi Ackerman allergic to anything? What’s his family like? All questions that _you’re_ going to be finding the answers to while you’re documenting this tour. You’ll be given a featured column on our website, which will be titled, “The Ackerman Tour Experience”, where you will be journaling your days on tour on a _daily_ basis. If you miss a day, I’ll dock your pay, alright?

 

At the end of the two months, which by then it will be September, you and our photographer will be given an eight-page spread in _Time Magazine_ telling the entire world all about the Ackerman Tour Experience through words and pictures. Your task then will be to sum up the entire tour, including your personal experiences with Ackerman, the highs, the lows, and then give one final review of Ackerman’s music. All the videos taken by the video recorder will be uploaded onto our website as exclusive bonus content to our subscribed readers.

This could do _wonders_ for the magazine. Ackerman is a celebrity now, and we need this publicity, as well does he. All I'm asking is that you put aside your differences for a couple months and figure out who the hell this kid really is. We needed someone like you to do it: cute, young, naïve, and less intimidating than some of my other staff. Unless, of course, you'd rather not have this job. I could always find someone else to-"

 

I quickly interrupt him, frantically shaking my head.

 

"No, no, no, it's fine. I…I'll go on tour with him."

 

"Figured you’d see it my way. Now, get out of my office and don’t be late for that meeting. Tour starts next week and all the little details need to have been worked out between you and Ackerman’s management before the end of today. Screw this up, and you’ll be fired before you even start. Got it?”

 

"Yes sir! Thank you, and I promise I won’t let you down." I dazedly get up and rush out of the office, shutting the door behind me.

 

Even though this was a huge amount of info to take in all at once, I couldn't help the shriek of happiness the omitted from my lips, afterwards.

 

_I got the job!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about writing this story, haha. I got positive feedback last time, and I REALLY appreciate it. You guys find this concept interesting and so do I, heh. Let me know what you guys think! Comments, concerns, questions...anything is welcome! People commenting makes me happy because it makes me feel as though people are actually reading this bull and I actually have an audience, which is exciting. And kudos are awesome, as well. But, yeah, um...THANKS FOR READING! 
> 
> P.S. Happy holidays! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Should I continue this? I really don't know if I should, so lemme know what you guy's think? Questions/Comments/Concerns/ETC are always appreciated! And a click of the kudo button helps, too. :)


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